


Not the Word I'm Looking For

by Talia2711



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talia2711/pseuds/Talia2711
Summary: Zhenya has a plan: catch an Uber to Sewickley and bang on Seryozha’s door. He’ll beg a place to stay, and then tomorrow he’ll go the Academy to see if there’s an open position for him. When all that’s sorted out, he’ll go to see Sidney. With any luck, soon everything will be exactly how it was when he left.Sid might be angry, but Zhenya can make him see sense. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Zhenya notices about Pittsburgh is that the skyline hasn’t changed at all. Not that he’d have expected it to (he didn’t think they’d have torn down all the bridges in the year and half since he’s been gone or anything), but it’s a nice reminder that this city – his city – is still here for him. He may have abandoned it, thought he’d left it forever, but it’s still here waiting and that feels good.

He’s making the right choice, he knows that now. He’d been sure of it when he left Magnitka, but it had been a long flight from Frankfurt to Washington and he’d started to have his doubts around hour five. He’d had just enough time in Dulles to shake himself out of it before he caught his connecting flight, though, and then there had been a baby one row ahead of him on the short flight to Pittsburgh who kept peaking back between the seats at Zhenya. Zhenya had distracted himself with making silly faces for the little one, and so he hadn’t had time to work himself up again before the Pittsburgh skyline came into view.

And now here he is, standing outside the airport, breathing in the late summer air. It smells like gasoline and fried food, and the possibility of trees in the distance. It could be the smell of any city, but it still makes him swallow hard with how good it is to be home. He has a plan: catch an Uber to Sewickley and bang on Seryozha’s door. He’ll beg a place to stay, and then tomorrow he’ll go the Academy to see if there’s an open position for him. When all that’s been sorted out, he’ll go to see Sidney. It might take a few days to get his feet under him again, but with any luck, soon everything will be exactly how it was when he left.

/////

His plan, Zhenya realizes quickly, may have been quite optimistic, and perhaps – if one were being ungenerous – shortsighted. Probably it would have been better to actually _call_ Seryozha before just showing up at his house. But in his defense, Zhenya hadn’t counted on Seryozha being in the middle of dinner, or on his tight-lipped greeting when he opened the door and saw Zhenya standing on his front stoop.

Probably there are a lot of things Zhenya hasn’t counted on. He’s never been a strong planner.

“Zhenya,” Seryozha says slowly, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for a place to stay,” Zhenya says, a little put-off by Seryozha’s tone. He had expected surprise, confusion even, but not this coldness. “If it doesn’t inconvenience you, of course.”

Seryozha blinks for a long, confusing moment. Then he says, “No, of course not,” and stands aside for Zhenya to come in.

Zhenya hoists his bag onto his back and brushes past him into the house. Everything in the hall looks the same, at least, and that’s something of a comfort, even if Seryozha’s behaving oddly.

“The guest room is empty, if you want to put your things there,” Seryozha says. “We’re having dinner. Do you want to join us or should I set something aside for later?”

Zhenya considers. It’s not that he isn’t tired; by this point, he’s essentially running on jet fumes and a coffee he’d chugged in D.C. But he knows if he goes to bed now without eating, he’ll be sorry for it later.

“Let me change and wash up,” he says.

It’s been a year and half since Zhenya set foot in this house, but he remembers the way to the guest room clearly, and from there to the bathroom. The bathroom’s been redecorated – pale blue now instead of green like when Zhenya lived here – but the view from the window is just the same, looking down into the little garden and backyard where Zhenya used to run around with the girls. It makes him smile as he washes his face and hands. Hopefully they’ll all be able to pick up just where they left off. 

By the time he makes it down to the dining room – a little cleaner and determined to push past whatever weirdness is going on with Seryozha – Ksenia has a plate set out for him. 

The girls must have been informed about their visitor, too, because the minute they spot him in the doorway, they both hop out of their seats and rush over to hug him.

“Zhenya, Zhenya!” Natalie screeches, bowling into him. Victoria’s hot on her heels, and Zhenya folds himself down onto the floor to meet her.

“Look at you both!” he says, holding them both tight. “You’re so big! I missed you so much!”

“It’s good to see you, Zhenya,” Ksenia says, and Zhenya grins up at her, brushing Natalie’s hair out of his eyes.

“It’s good to be back,” he says.

She’s smiling, he notices, but there’s something tense about the way she’s standing, arms crossed over her chest and shoulders drawn up. Seryozha isn’t even trying to smile, though his expression looks more resigned than it did in the hall. The strangeness of it all almost takes the pleasure out of seeing the girls again. Almost.

When the girls have gotten their fill of him and have allowed themselves to be herded back into their chairs by their mother, Zhenya takes a seat in front of the plate laid out for him.

“This smells wonderful,” he tells Ksenia. And then, thinking maybe his timing is what’s causing the tension, he adds, “Sorry I didn’t give you more warning. I was going to call, but it’s been a long few days.”

It’s sort of true. He _was_ going to call, but he’d still been second-guessing this decision until the moment the plane started to circle over the city. He could have called from the airport, he supposes, but he’d figured it would be easier for everyone if he just found his own way here. Clearly that had been a mistake, but he’s not exactly clear on why.

“Don’t worry yourself about it. You’re always welcome here,” Ksenia says, and she sounds sincere about that, at least. 

“Thank you,” Zhenya manages, and then Natalie is commandeering his attention to tell him about all the thing she’s been doing since the last time they spoke – what she’s learning in school, the new kid on her ice hockey team, what she got for her last birthday (which Zhenya already knows because they Skyped about it a few days afterward, and she’d already been wearing the bracelet he sent her).

Zhenya listens and nods along as he eats, but between her comforting chatter and the food filling his stomach, he starts to zone out – chewing mechanically, fork only making it to his mouth by sheer dumb luck.

When his eyes start to droop, Ksenia breaks in and says, “That’s enough, Natasha. Zhenya’s had a long day and needs to sleep. You can finish catching him up tomorrow.”

Natalie pouts, but obediently falls silent.

Zhenya blinks hard and puts his fork down.

“Sorry,” he tells her. He’s going to crash so hard, and he hopes he’s in a real bed when it happens.

He stands and goes to grab his plate, but Seryozha waves him off.

“I’ll get it. But let me walk you upstairs.”

He mustn’t be too mad, Zhenya figures, if he’s worried enough to make sure Zhenya gets up the steps in one piece.

“Good night, Zhenya!” Natalie says, and Victoria repeats her.

“Good night,” Zhenya says, and winks at Victoria, who giggles at him.

“I can’t believe how big they’ve gotten,” he says as he leads Seryozha up the stairs.

“Yes,” Seryozha says. “That’s what happens when you leave for over a year, Zhenya. You miss the children growing up.”

His voice sounds cold again, more even than it did when he first opened the door, and Zhenya whips around to look at him.

“Why are you angry?” he asks, feeling lost and a little big angry himself. “I’ve done nothing!”

“Yes,” Seryozha says. “I’m aware of that. Have you talked to Sid yet?”

Zhenya frowns. “What’s Sid have to do with this?”

“Are you even going to see him while you’re in town?”

“Yes, of course,” Zhenya says, still confused. As if Sid isn’t his main reason for coming back. But… “What does it matter to you?”

“The boy deserves better, Zhenya. I don’t know what happened between you and Sid and I don’t care. If you want to ruin your life by walking away, that’s on you, but that boy needs you, and you had better do the right thing by him.”

The heavy, choking feeling Zhenya’s been pushing down since Magnitka wells up again, and he has to grip the railing to keep himself from sinking down on the stairs.

“I know,” he manages to say around the lump in his throat. He’d fucked up with Sid and he knows it. “I know that. It’s why I’m here. I’m going to fix it, Seryozha.”

Seryozha looks at him hard for a long moment, then says, “Okay,” and waves a hand for Zhenya to keep walking.

Zhenya’s a little bit shaky as he brushes his teeth – head aching from tiredness, but mind racing from the conversation he’d just had. He still doesn’t understand why Seryozha is so mad about the whole thing. Yes, Zhenya fucked up, leaving like he did (and don’t think it doesn’t weigh on him every time he stops to think). He fucked up and he’s going to make it right. He going’s to talk to Sid and they’re going to work it out, and everything will be okay again.

What any of that has to do with Seryozha, though, Zhenya doesn’t know. He hadn’t thought they were that close before he left – coworkers, sure, but not good friends. Well, Zhenya can deal with it once he’s had some proper sleep.

Still, he thinks as he strips down to go to bed, Seryozha had seemed very adamant about Sid needing Zhenya, and that seems promising. Zhenya hopes Sid hasn’t been unhappy while he’s been gone, wouldn’t wish that on him, but he knows Sid will be happier once they’re together again. 

Tomorrow, Zhenya will go get his job back, and then he’ll go see Sid. Sid might still be a bit mad about the whole thing, but it won’t take long to make him see sense. He hadn’t been sure before, but he knows now that Sid is his forever girl. They were good together before and they can be like that again, but better this time. This time it’s forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Zhenya wakes up the next morning feeling hungover and unpleasantly sticky, the same way he always does after making the trip between continents. He considers rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, but the girls probably won’t let him sleep much longer anyway. Actually, he’s surprised they let him sleep as long as they did; the year he lived in this house, Natalie woke him every morning at six without fail.

He showers and the hot water helps a bit. Tea would help more, he thinks, so he tromps downstairs to find some. Seryozha is alone in the kitchen, a steaming mug in his hand. Three’s another mug left steeping on the counter, because even when they’re arguing, Seryozha is Zhenya’s brother in all the ways that matter.

Seryozha looks up as Zhenya comes into the room, and he doesn’t look as displeased as he had last night. Hopefully whatever was bothering him has run its course. 

Better to be polite, just in case, though.

“Thank you,” he says as he picks up the mug.

The first swallow burns going down his throat and he doesn’t know if it’s from the heat or the lingering soreness caused by recycled air. He doesn’t much care, to be honest.

“It was no trouble,” Seryozha says. His tone is friendly, but he’s watching Zhenya closely.

Zhenya swallows another mouthful. 

“The girls?” he asks.

“Out with their mother,” Seryozha says. He doesn’t say, ‘So we can talk,’ but Zhenya doesn’t need it spelled out for him.

He says, “I’m going to the Academy today to see if there’s job for me. After that, I’m going to see Sid.”

Seryozha blanches suddenly and Zhenya stares; he’d have expected Seryozha to be a fan of this idea, considering their words last night.

“What?” Zhenya demands. “What’s wrong?”

Seryozha glances at his phone on the table, then says slowly, “I spoke to Sid this morning.”

Zhenya feels his back straightening and chin coming up. “You wanted to warn him.”

“Yes,” Seryozha admits. He sighs and rubs a hand along his jaw. “It seemed like the right thing to do. I didn’t think a surprise would do either one of you any good. I still don’t, but I suppose it’s out of my hands now.”

Zhenya doesn’t like the sound of that. “Did he say he wouldn’t see me?”

“No,” Seryozha says. “But he didn’t agree to it, either. I’m rethinking my earlier position, Zhenya. Maybe you shouldn’t go see him right away. You know how stubborn he is; if you back him into a corner, it will take three times as long to coax him out again. But if you wait… you should wait.”

Probably he’s right, but Zhenya can’t stand the thought of waiting. He’s waited long enough – it’s been a year since they’ve spoken, longer than that since they’ve seen one another in person. He hasn’t forgotten what Sid looks like or anything – he’s poured over all of their pictures countless times, watched their silly recordings on his phone so many times he could recite every line – but the chance to see him in person, to maybe touch him… it’s too much to resist.

A smart man would wait. Zhenya probably isn’t that smart. 

“I suppose there’s no point telling you not to be an idiot,” Seryozha says, but there’s a wry grin on his face.

Zhenya drains his cup and grins back. 

“No,” he admits. “Not really.”

He gives Seryozha a silly eyebrow wiggle and turns to go, but before he can even take a step, Seryozha’s calling him back. Zhenya turns around again, expecting a joke at his expense, probably something about using a condom or not walking into the wall while he’s daydreaming about Sidney. 

Instead, Seryozha looks utterly serious, lips thin like they had been last night.

“I should tell you,” he says slowly.

Zhenya waits, but nothing else is forthcoming, so he nods at Seryozha to go on.

For a moment, it looks like Seryozha is going to tell him some deep and profound mystery of the earth, that’s how serious he’s being. But then the moment passes; Seryozha’s shoulders slump and he lets out a noisy sigh.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Zhenya. A lot’s changed since you’ve been gone.”

Something clenches low in Zhenya’s belly, and he decides this is another warning he should ignore… for now, at least. He doesn’t want to think about what might be different now, about the work he might have to do to put it to rights (and the possibility he might not be able to). But in his heart he knows that Sid is still Sid and he is still Zhenya, and no matter what else happens, they’re meant to be together.

“Thank you, Seryozha,” he says, because he knows the warning comes from a place of genuine caring. “I’ll be careful.”

Probably it’s an empty promise and they both know it.

/////

The Lemieux Academy is close enough to Seryozha’s house to walk in good weather, which is convenient, as Zhenya is currently without a car of his own. The walk is nice, though, and the fresh air helps settle his stomach.

When he’d first come to this city – almost eight years ago now – he’d gone an entire school year without owning a car. He hadn’t had the money (or, in fact, a driver’s license), and living with Seryozha had made it easy to carpool to work together. Once he and Sidney started hanging around together, though, Zhenya started to realize how inconvenient it was to have Seryozha as his chaperone. He bought a car that next summer – a hot red Ford Mustang he found for cheap because of its accident history – and it saw him through the next few years. He’d had to sell it last spring before he went back to Russia for what he thought then would be forever.

God, he misses that car. He’ll have to start looking for another one soon, something just as awesome. Maybe Sid will even want to come with him to look. 

First, though, he’s going to need his job back. 

The Lemieux Academy looks just like it did when Zhenya left, and Zhenya takes a minute just to stare at it. It’s nothing special, just a boxy old apartment building that’s been renovated and given new purpose, but Zhenya’s spent some good years here. It wasn’t always happy, the kids weren’t always good, but he has more memories of this building than anywhere else in his adult life. 

The door is unlocked, just like he expects it to be. Like with Seryozha, it probably would have been better to call before coming, but after last night’s argument, he doesn’t know what kind of reception he’s going to get from anyone else in this town. If he needs to turn on the charm in order to get his job back, he has a better shot in person than over the phone.

He lets himself inside and crosses the lobby to the front office. Mario is there, sitting at his desk, staring intently at his computer screen. Probably he’s looking at supply orders, Zhenya thinks absently; it’s about that time of year again.

Zhenya knocks on the open door to get his attention, and Mario starts.

“Just a second,” he mutters, mostly to himself. He types something quickly, then hits the ctrl+l combination and glances up. His eyes go wide when he sees who’s at his door.

“Evgeni Malkin,” he says carefully. It… does not sound like a friendly greeting. “What can I do for you?”

Zhenya grits his teeth. He’d been half expecting it, sure, but he still doesn’t understand what he’s done to make everyone hate him these days. So he’d gone home to Russia, so what? Surely that was his choice, even if it ended up being the wrong one. He’d waited until his contract was up to do it; he’d broken no promises to this man.

Well, you don’t put up points without some grinding, do you? Zhenya can push through this.

He forces himself to smile.

“I’m here to put in application. You have opening?”

Mario’s eyebrows rise slowly as though he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Zhenya does his best not to fidget in the face of it.

At last Mario says, “For the summer, you mean? Our community outreach programs are almost over, but if you want to help out while you’re in town, we’d be glad to find some… temporary volunteer work for you.”

“Not summer,” Zhenya cuts in, forgetting he’s supposed to be polite. “For school year. For teacher. I teach before, have good reference.”

A year ago, it would have been a joke and Mario would have laughed. Now he just frowns, and his eyes flicker down quickly to the lock screen on his computer screen. It’s a picture of a group of people, but Zhenya’s not at the right angle to see anything more than indistinct figures.

Mario says, “We don’t take just anyone. We need teachers with special dedication and skill.”

“I’m have skill!” Zhenya protests indignantly, knowing how ridiculous this conversation is and letting himself be drawn into it anyway. “Degree in biology, speak two languages!”

“We were fortunate enough to fill our vacant foreign language slot last year. We now have classes for Russian and Italian. Of course, if your first language is something other than one of those…”

He trails off meaningfully.

Zhenya glares at him. He’d thought… well, he fucking thought they were friends, that’s what. They weren’t close, but they were friendly, and Zhenya’s done nothing to have earned this sort of welcome. He gives serious thought to forgetting the whole thing and storming out, has to talk himself out of it.

He needs this job, so he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“I believe in this school,” he says, willing Mario to see how earnest he is in this. “I want to teach here. School here better with me. I’m best teacher, you not find better.”

Mario meets his gaze, and Zhenya doesn’t blink, even when he feels his eyes start to itch. If it’s a battle of the wills, Zhenya isn’t going to let himself lose.

“Why are you here, Geno?” Mario says at last. “Really, why did you come back here?”

It’s a deeply personal sort of question. For anyone else, Zhenya probably wouldn’t answer. But… this is the man who practically raised Sid, and if he can’t convince Sid’s family he’s serious about this, how the hell is he ever going to make Sid believe him?

“For Sid,” he says. “Came back for Sid. Think, maybe better this time, maybe real.”

“Real,” Mario says and scoffs. “Real, he says. Well, you think you’re just going to pick up where you left off?”

“Have to start somewhere.”

Mario nods. “Right. Well, I gave it a shot. He’s going to kill me for this, but I believe in second chances. I also think the punishment should fit the crime. You’re a fucking idiot, but one mistake shouldn’t ruin your life, not when you’ve come back to do the right thing.”

“Hey!” Zhenya says huffily. “Not an idiot!”

“Trust me on this,” Mario says. “You really are. But I’ll leave the grudge-holding to Sid.”

Zhenya doesn’t like the sound of that (he still doesn’t really see what he’s done so wrong that keeps getting him in trouble like this). But on the other hand…

“You hire me?” he asks. That’s what it had sounded like, anyway.

Mario nods. “It’s for a class of 7-8-9s. Three year contract, same as before. Can you commit to three years?”

Zhenya’s already decided this is where he wants to be forever.

“Three years,” he says. “No problem.”


	3. Chapter 3

Zhenya’s first move after leaving Mario’s office should be to go straight back to Seryozha’s house and start working on his lesson plans. He has less than a month until school starts, and he’s spent the last year teaching at a public school, unlearning everything he’s ever known about managing multi-age classes. He’s going to need all the time he can get to look through his old planners for anything that can be salvaged or reworked.

But on the other hand, Sidney’s place is only a ten minute walk from the Academy, and Zhenya is very weak. He doesn’t even think about any other option, just starts in that direction the minute he’s out the door. And because ten minutes seems like a very long time to wait, he jogs most of the way. 

It could be the nervous energy talking, but suddenly all Zhenya wants in the world is to see Sid again. This is it, after all: the reason he left Russia, the reason came out to his parents and forsook the motherland. The last block before Sid’s house has him nearly sprinting; he only reigns himself back under control at the last second because Sid might be outside and Zhenya doesn’t want their first meeting after all this time to start with Zhenya looking stupid.

It’s wasted effort. Sid isn’t outside. Neither is his car. The front door of the house is closed tight and the lights are off inside.

“What the fuck?” Zhenya says, skidding to a halt to stare.

Is Sid not even fucking home? What the fuck? What’s he supposed to do now?

Zhenya scowls and wipes sweat away from his forehead. What could Sid possibly be doing that’s more important than Zhenya? Surely he knew Zhenya would come after the conversation with Seryozha this morning.

Unless… is that the point? Maybe Sid’s angrier than Zhenya thought, and he’s avoiding him deliberately. Maybe this is a message that Zhenya should fuck off. It’s a definite possibility; Sid’s hard to rile up (and thank God, because someone has to be there to temper Zhenya’s impulses), but he can be a passive-aggressive fucker when he’s really mad.

And okay, everyone had warned Zhenya that Sid was pissed off, but Zhenya hadn’t put much weight into it. Not because he thinks Seryozha or Mario would lie to him, but just because he doesn’t really get why Sid would be angry. It’s not like Zhenya broke his heart when he left, or like they were in a forever kind of relationship. Sid had made it extremely obvious he wasn’t in love with Zhenya on multiple occasions, so him being legitimately angry doesn’t make any sense. Sure, he’s probably a bit cranky that his established routines all had to be re-written, and maybe he felt a little abandoned – they’ve been the very best of friends for six years and lovers for at least half that time.

But would any of that make Sid genuinely angry with Zhenya? Surely not. This has to be a coincidence. Maybe Sid just had errands or something. Or maybe he thinks Zhenya deserves to wait a little for being such an idiot.

Maybe he’s not wrong about that.

Zhenya grumbles and climbs the stairs to sit on the porch. He’s waited a year and a half already. As much as it pains him (and it does), he’ll survive another hour or two if he has to.

/////

“Why are you so sweaty?” Seryozha asks when Zhenya treks home three hours later, task unfulfilled.

Anxiety, probably, but Zhenya won’t cop to that.

“It’s summer,” he says instead. “Why is it so hot in this city?”

“You’ve been in Siberia too long,” Seryozha tells him.

Zhenya rolls his eyes and stomps upstairs to shower. And maybe jerk off. He’s not really in a sexy mood after so much waiting around, but he has to do something with all this nervous energy. And at least he’s free to fantasize about Sid again. It had seemed counterproductive while trying to get over Sid and move on in Russia, but it’s a different game now. He feels totally justified in lathering up and fucking his fist to the memory of Sid pinning him down with those incredible thighs and riding him until they were both shaking with it.

It’s not as good as seeing Sid in person, but it’ll have to do until he can make that happen. And he will. Sid is a stubborn bastard (Seryozha was right), but Zhenya is no wilting flower. If he has to lurk outside Sid’s house indefinitely, that’s what he’s going to do.

First, though, there are things he really has to get done. He makes a mental list as he dries himself off. He needs to dig out his US phone and get it activated, email his mother to let her know he arrived safely, check on the shipping status of his boxes, and start looking for apartments. He may not end up needing that last one, depending on how things go with Sid, but it’s possible Sid won’t want Zhenya to move in right away even after they make up. He’ll look for something with a short lease, so that once Sid gets over his snit Zhenya won’t have to keep paying for an apartment he’s not actually living in.

All of that should take most of the day and hopefully will keep Zhenya from dwelling on his own impatience. If all goes well, he might even be able to manage dinner with the family without coming out of his skin. Later this evening, he’ll go back to Sid’s. He’s going to stay on that damn porch until he dies of thirst or Sid comes home – whichever comes first.

/////

Zhenya must be pretty obvious during dinner, because Ksenia keeps giving him looks, and Natalie says, “How come you’re so bouncy, Zhenya?”

There’s no easy way to explain his predicament to a twelve year old, and it would be embarrassing to try, so he just says, “I have plans tonight,” and hope she lets it go.

Apparently he really has been away too long. His judgement is clearly slipping. Of course vagueness only makes her more interested.

“Oh!” she says, giving him what she probably thinks is a sly look. “Plans with Sid?”

“Natasha-” Seryozha starts, but his voice is drown out by Victoria saying excitedly, “Sid! I wanna go see Sid! Zhenya, can I come? Please?”

Zhenya laughs. God, she’s cute.

“I didn’t know you liked Sid so much,” he says.

Natalie rolls her eyes. “She just wants to go see Whit,” she says. “She thinks he’s sooo cute.”

Victoria scowls at her sister. “You think so, too!” she says hotly.

“Do not!” Natalie shouts back.

“Girls,” Ksenia snaps. “Don’t start a fight at the table. If you’re done eating, go play outside.”

The girls start to protest, but Ksenia points a finger at the door and they go, both of them pouting the whole way.

Ksenia looks at Zhenya. “They don’t know,” she says, voice suddenly so cold that Zhenya’s taken aback. “They both missed you so much and it would have killed them to know.”

“Know what?” Zhenya says, all senses on high alert. “What’s going on? Who’s Whit?”

Ksenia blinks, disbelief on her face, and Seryozha touches her arm gently.

“Ksenia,” he says softly. “He doesn’t know.”

Her mouth drops open.

“What?” she says, voice rising. “Of course he knows! How could he not know?”

Seryozha shakes his head slowly.

“Know what?” Zhenya repeats, more desperate now. Just what the fuck is going on here? Who’s Whit and what does everyone know that Zhenya doesn’t?

Seryozha says nothing.

Zhenya shoves himself to his feet so hard the chair nearly tips over backward. 

“Don’t do this, Seryozha!” he snaps. “Tell me what’s going on here. What are you keeping from me?”

Seryozha looks pained, but he only says, “Sid needs to be the one to tell you. You can take my car.”

/////

Zhenya probably breaks a lot of traffic laws on the way to Sid’s but he doesn’t care about that. He can barely think over the sound of blood pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, but he’s going to find out and he’s going to do it now. If Sid’s still not home, he’s going to sniff him out like a bloodhound, because enough is enough.

Sid’s car is in the driveway, and relief is the only thing that keeps Zhenya from rear-ending him out of spite. He takes the driveway too quickly anyway, and slams his door hard when he gets out. It echoes in the quiet evening air, and that’s all the warning Sid’s going to get from him. He takes the porch steps two at a time and pounds on the front door.

He shouldn’t do it like this, he knows that. This isn’t the way, and it’s going to drive Sid into a corner. But as clearly as he knows that, he can’t make himself calm down. It’s been a long fucking day and someone is going to tell him the truth about something right fucking now.

Sid yanks the door open, and it’s only his quick reflexes that keep him from getting clocked by Zhenya’s fist.

“Jesus Christ,” he says. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Zhenya says, voice loud and uneven. “I am not one with problem. Everyone else has problem! And you have answer, Sid. What you hide from me? Tell me now!”

“What the fuck,” Sid mutters, and grabs Zhenya’s shoulders to steady him. “Listen to me: you need to calm down right the fuck now, because you’re being loud and the neighbors are going to call the cops. Is that what you want?”

Zhenya thinks for a single mulish second that maybe he _does_ want the neighbors to call the cops. At least that would get the point across that he’s fucking serious about getting answers. But Sid’s grip is tight and steadying, and Zhenya finds himself leaning into it almost accidentally. 

Sid’s always had this effect on him. God, he’s so beautiful and Zhenya wants him so damn much.

“Are you cool?” Sid asks.

Zhenya’s not, not even close, but that moment of staring into Sid’s eyes has calmed him enough that he might be able to stop yelling. 

“No,” he says anyway, sulky.

Sid rolls his eyes and lets go. Zhenya immediately wants the touch back, but has just enough willpower left to stop from swaying pathetically forward.

“Right,” Sid says.

He doesn’t invite Zhenya in or seem inclined to move away from the door. His expression is the one he wears when he’s done something mean and isn’t sorry about it. 

“What do you want, Evgeni?”

Zhenya goes cold all over and it’s such a stark difference to the hot anger of moments before that he feels lightheaded. Because… Sid doesn’t use his given name like that – not ever. He’ll says Zhenya, or Geno, or G, or even Zhenyechka when he’s feeling particularly sweet. But… he doesn’t say Evgeni, and what does it mean that he’s using it now? Nothing good.

Zhenya gathers himself and says, “Tell me who’s Whit.”

Sid nods, like he’s been expecting this.

“Whit,” he says, “is my son.”

It hits Zhenya like a punch to the gut, and he takes a step back without realizing.

“Son?” he says, voice high. “You have son? You married?”

What the fuck, why wouldn’t someone warn him that Sid had already moved on? Why the hell did Seryozha let him get his stupid hopes up if he knew Sid had a goddamn wife!

“No,” Sid says. “Not married. Just Whit.”

Zhenya’s stupid heart swells in sudden relief. Or possibly he’s had a great shock and is going into cardiac arrest. One of those things.

But… Sid’s not married. And that means there’s still a chance. This isn’t what he expected – a baby, of all things! – but he loves kids, and Sid’s son is bound to be something special, even if Sid went and had him with someone other than Zhenya.

Zhenya thinks quickly. He has to be smart about this. Nothing’s changed in his plan, but he didn’t get started on the right food here. Stupid Seryozha, getting him all worked up about something that’s not even an issue. Like he thinks Zhenya would be unwilling to date a man with kids! What the hell did he think Zhenya went back to Russia for if not to find someone to start a family with?

He says carefully, “I meet him?”

Sid stares at him for a long time, like he’s deciding something. Finally he says, “Fine,” and steps back to let Zhenya pass.

Sid’s house is exactly the way Zhenya remembers it. Until he gets into the living room, that is, because the coffee table that used to be there has been cleared out and instead there’s a soft-looking rug. There are a handful of toys scattered around the floor, but Zhenya only gets a glimpse of them before he keys in on the actual fucking baby in the room.

“This is Whit,” Sid says, waving a hand at the tiny child tucked into an exersaucer.

“Hi Whit,” Zhenya says, mouth curving up into a smile without his permission. “Nice to meet.”

He crouches down in front of the baby to get a better look. Whit looks pretty much just like Zhenya would expect: a bit of dark wispy hair that’s starting to curl at the back, dark eyes (darker than Sid’s), chubby cheeks and flailing hands. He smiles at Zhenya, and Zhenya feels himself melt. Zhenya wants to hold him so, so much.

“Cute,” he says, even though that doesn’t even cover it. “Looks like you.”

He glances up at Sid and is shocked to see how pale and shaky he looks suddenly.

“No,” Sid says, voice hoarse. “He doesn’t.”

“You okay?” Zhenya asks, standing to look into Sid’s eyes. “You look sick.”

Sid clears his throat and takes a step back, away from Zhenya.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Zhenya isn’t sure about that, but nods anyway.

“You want I make tea?” he asks.

Sid sighs and that look comes back to his face, the mean one.

“No,” he says. “I don’t want tea. Look, Mario told me he offered you a job. Which is… whatever. I can be professional. But if you think we’re just going to pick up where we left off, you’re crazy.”

“Not where we left,” Zhenya says at once. “It’s different now. I’m different now.”

Sid snorts. “Congratulations,” he says. “Now leave.”

“What?” Zhenya says. “No. We talk about this! Why don’t you want be together again?”

“That’s none of your business,” Sid snaps. “I don’t owe you an explanation about this.”

And fine, maybe he doesn’t, but Zhenya knows what this is about anyway.

“So what, you punish me now? Fine. I’m make mistake, I take punishment. How long you want me to wait?”

Sid says nothing, just stares at Zhenya like he’s an idiot.

“One month?” Zhenya asks. “Two months? Six?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sid says, and Zhenya can see how angry he is under that calm exterior.

He shouldn’t push it, because he’s going to anyway.

“How long Sid?” he asks. “Tell me how long until you think I’m punished enough!”

“Jesus,” Sid says, throwing his arms up. “I’m not punishing you!”

It shouldn’t feel like victory, but all he can think is that Sid cares about him. You don’t get angry over things you don’t care about.

“Well why else you say, ‘no can’t’?” he snaps back. “No reason, Sid! You want. I know you want!”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want,” Sid mutters darkly. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? You don’t get to tell me I can’t say no to you. That’s not how this fucking works.”

Zhenya scowls. “Fine,” he says, because he doesn’t have any other choices. At this point, the more he pushes the issue, the more Sid will dig in his heels. And God, it’s not like he’s going to force himself on Sid if he’s not ready for it. But fuck, what a mess.

“I’ll walk you out,” Sid says.

“Fine,” Zhenya says again. He gives the baby a last longing glance and then lets Sid usher him out the door.

On the porch, he turns back to face Sid and tries one last-ditch effort.

“Come to dinner tomorrow. The girls want to see Whit.”

“I’m busy tomorrow,” Sid says immediately.

“Next day, then.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sid allows.

It’s the best Zhenya’s going to get. He decides to leave before it can get any worse. He’ll take the long way back to Seryozha’s to give himself time to think. 

But God, what a turn of events. A son! Sid has a son! Zhenya can hardly believe it, even after seeing the boy. And he’d been so cute! If only Zhenya had been allowed more time to get to know him, maybe even hold him. They’ll get along so well, he thinks, once they get the chance. 

Well, there’s always next time. And there will be a next time, of that he is determined. He’s not going to try to force Sid’s hand, but there’s no reason he can’t start from scratch on their relationship. He’ll do it properly this time. He’s not going to let them fall into a situation like the last one, both of them complacent and happy but neither of them realizing how in love they really were. This time, it’s going to be real. 

The roots are already there between them. Zhenya just has to make Sid remember how good they can be together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cameo mentions

Zhenya stays out later than he means to – driving around town, thinking and planning. It’s fully dark by the time he gets home and the girls are probably in bed, so he’s quiet coming through the door. 

“Sorry,” Zhenya says when he sees Seryozha waiting up for him. Being in this house again makes him feel young in unexpected ways, and Seryozha’s so very good at the protective older brother act.

“It’s fine,” Seryozha tells him. “Come sit. How are you?”

Zhenya blinks and goes to sit next to him. He knows what Seryozha’s talking about, but not why he looks so concerned.

“Fine,” he says at once. “It was a shock, obviously, but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve always wanted a family, Seryozha, you know that.”

Seryozha stares at him suspiciously, as though he thinks Zhenya might be lying. Zhenya doesn’t know what there is to lie about here. 

“You’re not angry with him for not telling you sooner?”

Zhenya considers this. It would have been nice to know earlier, definitely. If he’d known Sid was suddenly all about starting a family, he might have gotten his act together earlier and come home. He could have been here for Sid – and for Whit – from the beginning. It’s a shame, certainly, and maybe if (when, he thinks firmly) Zhenya falls in love with Whit, he’ll be more sad about missing so much of his first year.

But on the other hand, it’s not like Sid owed him an explanation. Their relationship before had been nice, but not real in the forever kind of way. Sid probably hadn’t realized Zhenya would want to know. And he can’t hold that against Sid, not when Sid isn’t even in love with Zhenya yet.

“No,” he says at last. “I know now. That’s what’s important.”

Seryozha’s eyebrows go up. “That’s… very mature,” he says.

Zhenya scowls at him playfully. “What are you implying?” he asks. “I’m not actually one of your children, you know?”

“And yet you insist on acting like one,” Seryozha shoots back.

Zhenya elbows him gently and they end up tussling for a minute, Seryozha trying and failing to get Zhenya in a headlock. Zhenya just laughs and dodges him. Just like the good old days.

Once they’ve calmed down, Seryozha says, “So what are you going to do?”

“Same thing as before. Woo Sid. The baby changes nothing.”

Seryozha laughs gently.

“Oh, Zhenya,” he says. “You’ll learn. A baby changes everything.”

/////

Zhenya texts Sid the next day about coming over for dinner, but gets no reply. Which is fine, Zhenya tells himself – Sid’s probably just busy doing baby things. Things like… changing a diaper, and making a bottle, and… singing a lullaby? Oh god, who’s he kidding? Having a baby is hard fucking work – he’s babysat enough times to know that – but it doesn’t take so long you can’t find a minute to text your boyfriend back.

Except, okay, Zhenya’s not really Sid’s boyfriend, not anymore. He’s just the guy who wants to marry him and raise his son. And maybe that’s not the kind of relationship that requires a lot of texting. Zhenya wouldn’t know; he’s never been in this position before.

“I should go over there,” Zhenya says after lunch when he’s helping Seryozha wash dishes.

Ksenia looks over from where she’s putting leftovers into Tupperware.

“Zhenya, sweetheart, that is called stalking,” she says. “That’s exactly what you don’t want to do if you ever want a custody agreement.”

Zhenya frowns at her. “What, you mean for if we break up? We’re not going to break up.”

“You’d have to be together in order to break up,” she points out, and Zhenya sighs. 

“I should go over there,” he says again, and Seryozha slaps him in the back of the head with soapy hands.

/////

Zhenya does not go to Sid’s that day, or the next, even though he really, really wants to. On the third day, though, he finally comes up with an excuse that even Sid won’t be able to refuse.

 _Need help with lesson plan_ , he texts. _I come over, you help?_

Sid’s got his faults, but his dedication to the job is unparalleled. Even if Sid doesn’t want to see Zhenya, he’s not going to let him be unprepared for school to start. Plus, Sid told  
Zhenya himself, he’s determined to prove he can be professional.

This is basically the perfect plan to spend time with Sid.

Except, Sid doesn’t answer back right away this time, either. He could be busy, Zhenya thinks. Maybe he just hasn’t seen his phone yet. So he waits.

Two hours later, there’s still no answer. Zhenya tries to distract himself by playing with the girls (they’re very big on makeup these days, apparently, and need a live model), but his heart’s not in it. He’s mostly just trying to think of what other more aggressive way he can pursue this without scaring Sid off. Where does the line fall between “I’m dedicated to this relationship” and “I’m a stalker”?

Then, just as Victoria’s in the middle of applying his lipstick, his phone buzzes on the coffee table. Natalie’s been contemplating his hair with a handful of barrettes in her fist, but she immediately says, “I’ll get it!” and bounds over to look at the screen.

Zhenya holds his breath, trying not to hope. It could be anything: his mother replying to an email, a notification from Instagram, maybe his calendar app reminding him about an appointment. Probably it’s not a text from Sid.

“It’s from Sid!” Natalie says. In English, she reads, “Come over at noon. Door will be open. Be quiet when you come in.”

Zhenya’s heart starts to pound. Goddamn he’s good! He knew that would get Sid’s attention. Sid’s so fucking predictable and Zhenya loves him so much for that. 

“What time is it now?” he asks.

“11:45.”

“Oh shit!” 

He’s been laying around in his sweats all morning, but if this is his first real date with Sid this time around, he needs to look nice. He has to remind Sid he’s someone to be lusted after, someone to fall in love with. Also, he absolutely can’t be late, because that’s probably what Sid’s expecting and Zhenya’s not going to give him any opportunity to start a fight. He’s going to be suave as shit today.

“I have to go change,” he tells the girls. He’s not surprised when they follow him up the stairs. They try to give him advise (“that shirt, Zhenya – the one with the sparkles”), but luckily Zhenya knows his look. He goes with dark jeans and his tightest white shirt.

He gets his phone back from Natalie and sees he only has seven minutes to get to Sid’s. He rushes down the stairs, shoves his feet into his shoes and is almost out the door when Seryozha catches sight of him and calls him back.

“Zhenya wait!” he says, and Zhenya skids to a stop.

“Can’t talk,” Zhenya says quickly. “Going to Sid’s.”

Seryozha bites his lip and his eyes crinkle like he wants to laugh. 

“Okay,” he says. “Never mind. Good luck.”

Zhenya wants to know what’s so funny, but he doesn’t have time for that. He liberates Seryozha’s keys from the hook in the hall, says, “Taking your car. Thanks, see you later!”

Zhenya doesn’t actually remember the drive to Sid’s, which cannot be a good thing, but the next time he blinks he’s in Sid’s driveway and he’s got two minutes to spare. _Fuck yeah_ , he thinks, but doesn’t waste time congratulating himself. 

The door’s unlocked, as Sid promised, so Zhenya takes a fortifying breath and goes inside. He follows the sound of voices into the living room, but it turns out to be empty. The television is on, which Zhenya thinks is odd at first, because Sid’s never been a big fan of TV. He tunes in for hockey games, of course, and sometimes he’ll watch the news or a documentary, but by far his favorite form of entertainment has always been historical non-fiction – on audiobook if he can get it.

On the other hand, the TV is playing a kid’s cartoon, and Sid’s tastes can’t have changed _that_ much since Zhenya’s been away. Cartoons aren’t exactly Zhenya’s idea of a good time, either, though he’s certainly watched enough of them over the course of his teaching career. But as he settles in to wait for Sid to come back, he finds his eyes drifting to the TV anyway.

A little girl is causing shenanigans while a bear chases after her and tries to put things to rights. The whole thing looks familiar, like Zhenya’s seen it before. Probably he has, considering all the time he spends with children. The girl turns and says something to the bear, and it takes Zhenya a moment to realize she’s speaking in Russian.

Zhenya frowns. Why is Sid watching a Russian cartoons?

There’s a soft click and the screen goes dark. Zhenya turns around and sees Sid standing there with the remote in his hand. He looks sweaty and tired, and Zhenya’s on his feet taking a step toward him before he realizes how terrible an idea it would be to hug him right now.

Sid’s stares at him, looking a little bit alarmed, and Zhenya puts his hands in his pockets, hoping it will cover the awkwardness.

“Hi Sid,” he says, and tries to look cute. If he’s going to be awkward, he might as well be cute while he’s doing it.

“Geno,” Sid says, voice flat. His face is doing something strange. “Geno… what the fuck is on your face?”

Zhenya’s heart stops, because he knows. He fucking knows. He’d been so worried about his clothes he hadn’t stopped to look in a mirror or wash his face. And Seryozha, that bastard, had let him walk out the door looking like a circus clown. Zhenya is going to murder him.

Slowly, he brings a hand up and swipes two fingers against his cheek. They come away stained pink.

He can feel himself blushing, but he doubts Sid can tell under all the coverup.

“I can use your bathroom?”

Sid laughs, just a little, then bites his lip. His eyes are soft. God Zhenya loves his stupid face. 

“Yeah,” he says. “You know where it is.”

Zhenya scrubs up quickly without looking in the mirror because he honestly just doesn’t want to know how bad it is. He borrows a cloth from Sid’s linen closet and hopes Sid doesn’t mind him ruining it. He doesn’t know how people who regularly wear makeup go about taking it off (some kind of special soap, maybe?) but he just uses Sid’s facewash and a little elbow grease, and then double-checks himself in the mirror when he thinks he’s gotten it all. His face is splotchy and rubbed red (or possibly that’s the blush still).

As he walks back to the living room, he tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that Sid has seen him look way worse than he did just now. They’ve been through a lot together: flu seasons and lunch tray accidents and end-of-school-year hangovers that lasted days. A little bit of makeup isn’t going to set back Zhenya’s plans to woo Sid.

Sid already has his planner and two mugs of tea set out on the coffee table, which has made a reappearance. He looks up and grins at Zhenya. It’s so nice to see him smile again that Zhenya hardly minds that it’s at his expense.

“If you were too busy at the beauty parlor to come over, you should have said.”

It’s a weak chirp, but so typical of Sid that Zhenya can’t help but be charmed.

“Too pretty already, nothing they could do anyway,” he shoots back.

He sits down close enough to Sid that their thighs touch. It’s a daring move and it doesn’t quite work out, because Sid gives him a look and promptly puts a few inches between them.

Everything teasing about Sid’s expression melts away until he’s wearing his “I am a professional teacher” look. Zhenya wishes he could smack himself. Too strong and he knew it going in, but god, he wants to touch Sid all over. Also lick him, but one thing at a time.

“Right,” Sid says, like nothing’s just happened. “Show me what you have so far.”

Zhenya shakes himself and reaches for his bag.

They go over what Zhenya’s put together: a mishmash of old lesson plans and new ideas he’d had over the year he was away. What he’s looking for from Sid (apart from some quality time together, which was obviously the main point of this session) is to confirm that there haven’t been any changes to the curriculum guidelines that might narrow Zhenya’s freedom to work. It doesn’t seem there have been, so the basic touchpoints and lessons Zhenya has written now will have to do until he gets to know the kids better and can make adjustments.

“And of course,” Sid says, finishing Zhenya’s though, “You won’t be able to plan anything for sure until you really start working with the kids, see what they need specifically.”

Zhenya nods. “Yes, yes. Anyone I’m know already?”

In his position as head teacher, Sid does a lot of admin work with, and he usually puts together the class rosters. There’s not as much work as there would be in a traditional school – there are only ten classes and maybe 120 kids, most of whom stay with a single teacher for three years at a time. But the kids transitioning to a higher class all get run by Sid, who knows them better than Mario and can place them with the teacher who best suits their needs.

Sid thinks. “A few you had before: Cooper, Max, Nikki, some others. You might know some of the incoming kids, too. You remember Alice and Theo. Oh, and Catrin Briere.”

That catches Zhenya’s attention. He’d had two of the Briere boys in his class the year their father’s divorce was finalized and he rented out their spare room to a student in one of the university classes he taught. That had been a rough year for all involved, but the boys had warmed to Claude Giroux quickly and it wasn’t long before they were drawing him into their family pictures. Then a year or two later, Giroux got pregnant, and it was a whole big mess all over again. 

For his part, Zhenya remembers being distinctly jealous: male pregnancy is so rare, and he didn’t (still doesn’t, if you don’t count Giroux) know anyone who has the gene. He’d known even then he was mostly gay, but the baby fever had been creeping up on him. Of course, adoption or surrogacy is always an option, but it would be something special to have a baby that’s part you and part someone you love. And now Zhenya’s going to have one of those special children in his class. He wonder if her hair is going to be as bad as Giroux's, if she’ll have Briere's eyes.

“Don’t get moony about it,” Sid says, and Zhenya smiles at him.

“No mooning,” he agrees. “Know you don’t like Giroux.”

Sid frowns. “Just because we’ve had a few tense parent-teacher meetings doesn’t mean I’m going to take it out on his kids.”

Zhenya holds up his hands in surrender. He’s not going to argue that point. Of course Sid’s not going to take it out on a kid. Sid loves kids, and that feeling will only have grown now that he has one of his own, right? 

Sid, Zhenya thinks, has to be the best father in the world. And if he gives Zhenya the chance, they’ll be even better together. It’s silly to be jealous over other men having babies when Zhenya has a chance at something much better right here. It doesn’t matter that Whit isn’t Zhenya’s: Zhenya’s already in love with the idea of him. It could be real love if Sid would give him a chance. Zhenya just has to convince him it’s safe, and that means not coming on too strong.

He decides to change the subject to something safer.

“Seryozha tells me we have new program for math games. How you think about it? Better than old one?”

Sid makes a pained kind of face and starts telling him about the side to side scrolling format that clearly means the designers were creating it for a tablet instead of the PCs the school uses. Zhenya listens and makes a mental note to get the right permissions to access it. If this is just Sid being resistant to change, that’s one thing, but if the program is too clunky for the kids to enjoy, he’s going to have serious words with Mario about it.

Just as Sid’s getting intense about the save option, there’s a high pitched noise from the back room. It takes Zhenya a second to recognize it as a baby’s cry.

Sid stands up and says, “You should pack up.” He’s not mean about it, but he sounds firm.

And alright, that’s what Zhenya _should_ do, but he hasn’t gotten to see Whit in days, and he’s been aching to finally get to hold him, so he ignores Sid’s orders and follows him back the hall. Sid throws him an annoyed look, but he doesn’t tell Zhenya to get lost, so Zhenya counts it as a win for his own brash stubbornness.

Sid opens the door to what two years ago was a guest room, the one Zhenya always pretended to sleep in when Sid’s parents were in the other spare room. The first thing Zhenya notices is the smell of baby: a mix of baby powder, milk, and a little bit of dirty diaper. The second thing is that the walls have been repainted – they’re light blue now and someone with a great deal of talent has drawn monkeys and tigers and penguins and other zoo animals on them. It’s the kind of room Zhenya would have wanted as a child if his parents could have afforded it. It’s the kind of room Zhenya wants for his own child.

“Sid,” he says, and his voice catches in his throat.

Sid doesn’t look at him, but Zhenya’s watching closely enough to see how hard he swallows. Does Sid know? Could he know what he’s done here, what it’s doing to Zhenya?

“Hey, buddy,” Sid says to Whit, who’s arms and legs are flailing in a way that probably mean he wants picked up. Sid scoops him up and props him against his shoulder, rubs his back a little until he calms down.

“Can I hold?” Zhenya asks.

“Absolutely not,” Sid says, voice flat and without looking at him.

Anger flares hot and quick in Zhenya’s belly – because why the fuck not, what exactly does Sid think he’s going to do to a baby – but he pushes it down viciously. He can’t risk Sid getting upset and making him leave again. So instead he just stands back and watches Sid do his thing.  
Sid changes Whit’s diaper, then carries him out to the kitchen and juggles him into one arm while he warms milk with the other. It’s not formula, Zhenya notes, but real milk, stored in the kind of plastic bag people use for pumping. Zhenya wonders suddenly where Whit’s mother is, and if she still pumps for him despite not being around.

Actually… who’s to say she isn’t around? Just because she’s not married to Sid doesn’t mean they don’t have some sort of joint custody arrangement.

They go back into the living room so Sid can give Whit the bottle. Zhenya sits a careful distance away, but still close enough that he could lean forward and touch Whit’s sweet face if he wanted. His skin would be so soft.

To distract himself, Zhenya says, “You share custody for him?”

Sid’s snaps a startled look at him. “What?” he says, and his voice sounds odd, almost scared.

“With his mother,” Zhenya explains. He doesn’t know what’s so worrying about that.

Sid scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“No man,” he says. “I told you: I’m not married. I was never married. We had our thing, me and… me and her, but it was never real. She left me.”

The relief Zhenya feels suddenly makes it hard to keep a smile off his face, but he somehow manages. He knows he should feel bad that Sid’s relationship didn’t work out, but honestly, fuck that. Sid had to have met this woman very quickly after Zhenya left, for Whit to be the age he is, which means she was probably just a meaningless rebound. His and Sid’s relationship may not have been very serious, but their breakup would still have hurt (and it did, from Zhenya’s end). Rebound sex that resulted in an accidental pregnancy is entirely within the realm of possibilities, and it’s Zhenya’s best case scenario.

“Stupid woman,” Zhenya says. “Anyone leave you, very stupid.”

Sid says something under his breath that sounds distinctly like, “And thank God for that,” but before Zhenya can ask what he means, Sid looks at his watch and says, “Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but I have a meeting in twenty minutes about curriculum changes.”

“Oh,” Zhenya says. That’s… not ideal. He’d like to stay longer and play with the baby now that he’s awake, maybe hold him if he gets a chance. But on the other hand, today’s been going relatively well, and his best chance of getting invited back is if he lulls Sid into a false sense of security.

“That’s fine,” he says. “See you later.”

Even knowing it’s the right thing for the moment, it’s fucking hard to making himself leave. Every step of the way feels like he’s doing the wrong thing. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be inside, smiling at Sid and playing with Whit. He has to sit for a few minutes in the car until he’s really convinced himself that he has to do this.

He drives slowly back to Seryozha’s, wondering if maybe he should go back to Sid’s and pretend he’s forgotten something. Then he looks at the empty passenger seat and realizes he _has_ forgotten something. He’s left his bag with his planner and books inside. 

Zhenya has never been so happy to have to turn the car around and retrace his steps. When he pulls up to Sid’s again, there’s a car he doesn’t recognize in the driveway. Zhenya has to park on the street, and it gives him a feeling he doesn’t enjoy, like he’s intruding on something. Which is stupid. Sid’s just having a meeting about curriculum; it’s not like Zhenya is interrupting something private.

The door is still unlocked, so Zhenya doesn’t bother knocking. He hears voices in the living room and that’s where he needs to be anyway. The scene he walks into is exactly what Zhenya would have pictured for an informal meeting: Sid and his visitor sitting on the couch with a decent space between them, both looking down at some papers on the coffee table.

Then Zhenya realizes that this man – this stranger – is holding Whit. It’s like a bad car crash – Zhenya can’t look away no matter how much he wants to. He feels hot all over, burning up. How dare this random goddamn stranger touch Whit when Zhenya still isn’t allowed? Who the fuck does he think he is?

He must make a noise, because Sid suddenly looks up at him.

“Forget something?” he asks sarcastically, pointing at Zhenya’s bag on the chair near the door.

The man looks up and smiles tightly at Zhenya. He's hot, Zhenya thinks miserably, and wishes he hadn't noticed. 

Zhenya stares at him, and keeps staring until the smile falters and dies.

“Is there something else?” Sid asks, confused and impatient.

“Nothing,” Zhenya says between gritted teeth, because going across the room and punching a man for having the audacity to hold Whit would be a phenomenally bad idea. And besides, he can’t punch a man who’s holding a baby.

He snatches up his bag and stomps away, but not quickly enough.

The man says. “Oh, okay, then. До свидания.”

Zhenya doesn’t walk into the door, but it’s goddamn good luck that he doesn’t.

What the fuck. What the honest fuck?

It’s all making sense now: why Sid was watching Russian cartoons, why he was so eager to hurry Zhenya out the door. Sid has a new boyfriend, a new Russian boyfriend.

Zhenya’s so fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may say to yourself, hey these are all the folks from Recommended at the Price. Well, they were actually here first; I've just been sitting on this chapter for an unreasonable amount of time. Probably most of the relationships are going to remain background stuff to Sid and Geno's shenanigans.

Zhenya gives himself a few days after that to regroup. Sulking, Seryozha would (and does) say, but Zhenya prefers to think about it as a tactical retreat. He needs to think, he tells himself, make a new plan. He’d never counted on Sid having a boyfriend. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? He can’t give up, obviously, but can he figure out a way to break them up without Sid hating him forever? Zhenya’s the superior choice – no one could ever make Sid happy like Zhenya does. But… what if this relationship is serious? Zhenya doesn’t actually want to hurt Sid, just make him see sense. 

He needs more information. He needs to know more about the competition. How long have they been together? Is it serious enough that Zhenya needs to worry? If Zhenya happens to insinuate himself into the situation, will it all just naturally fall apart?

The only real choice he has is to go forward with his current plan – show Sid how good he and Zhenya would be together again. A little competition isn’t going to change that. If Sid’s relationship is more casual, it should be easy to break without hurting Sid. Best case scenario, Sid and the new boyfriend break up amiably and Sid comes back to Zhenya. 

And if it turns out Sid’s relationship is actually serious, well… Zhenya will deal with that later.

Still, the lingering fear of that last scenario is what keeps him from going back over to Sid’s. And maybe it’s better to give Sid a break anyway. Zhenya can’t overtly pressure him and still expect favorable results. Instead, he finds other ways to fill his time, things like running errands, doing laundry, moodily refreshing his VK feed. The girls occasionally come and bug him about playing, but his heart’s not in it, and they always wander off after a while, complaining that he’s boring.

Okay, fine, maybe Seryozha has a point about the sulking. But that doesn’t mean Zhenya has to take his disappointed glances, which get more and more exasperated as time goes on. Then on the third day, Seryozha pokes him in the side and says, “Stop acting like a teenager.”

Zhenya can’t actually think of a response that won’t confirm how adolescent he’s being, so he just glares instead.

“We have a staff meeting in an hour,” Seryozha reminds him. “And if you miss it because you’re sulking, Mario is going to fire you and you’ll have to go back to Russia. Is that what you want?”

“Maybe it is,” Zhenya says, just to be an asshole. He has a lot of built up emotion, okay, and Seryozha’s putting himself in the line of fire. It’s not Zhenya’s fault if he gets hit.

Seryozha rolls his eyes. “Do you want to be Whit’s father or not, Zhenya? If you ever want Sid to trust you again, you cannot keep having these tantrums.”

Zhenya snorts. “Sid doesn’t want me,” he says gritted teeth. “He has a new boyfriend now.”

Seryozha stares. “That cannot be true.” 

“It is,” Zhenya insists, and spills the whole terrible story, all about forgetting his bag and going back to see a stranger in the place where Zhenya should be. 

“And he was holding Whit!” he finishes, and he’s shaking with rage just as much now as he was in the moment.  
Seryozha looks thoughtful, and Zhenya tries not to hold that against him. He just has to keep reminding himself that Seryozha is on his side, even if he doesn’t understand Zhenya’s anger.

“Well,” Seryozha says. “I won’t tell you not to get upset over someone you don’t know holding Whit. You should have more control over that situation and everyone knows it. But what makes you think he’s Sid’s boyfriend?”

“Sid’s learning Russian for him.”

Seryozha shakes his head. “No, Sid’s been learning Russian for at least three years. Don’t let your emotions cloud your memory, Zhenya.”

He’s right, of course he’s right, but Sid hadn’t been trying very hard to learn before Zhenya left. Not like now, apparently. And anyway – 

“Sid never watched cartoons before!” Zhenya protests.

“Well, no,” Seryozha agrees. “But he never had an infant before, either. It makes sense that Sid wants Whit to learn Russian. And since Sid’s still so bad at it, of course he’s watching cartoons and having Alex over to help him.”

“Alex?” Zhenya asks quickly. “Who’s Alex?”

“This man you’re talking about, I would bet it’s Alex. He started teaching for us last year. You’ll meet him today.”

That catches Zhenya’s interest like nothing else could. Another face to face with the man who’s trying to steal Zhenya’s boyfriend. That could be… very interesting.

He hadn’t conducted himself well last time they met, but now Zhenya has another chance to show Sid he’s the better man. If Sid wants someone to teach his son Russian, Zhenya can be that guy. Zhenya should be the one teaching the boy to speak, the one holding him while Sid’s busy. This man, Alex, he may have had Sid for the last year, but Zhenya has six years of history with him. All he has to do is remind Sid of that. And Seryozha’s right: Zhenya has to be a grown-up about this or Sid will never trust him to be a father to his child.

“Okay,” Zhenya says, sitting up. He knows what he has to do. “I’ll get ready. Give me fifteen minutes.”

/////

Mostly due to Seryozha’s well-timed intervention, he and Zhenya get to the meeting early. The only people in the room are Mario, Sid, and Olli, who gives Zhenya a friendly wave. Sid and Mario seem to be in the middle of a conversation, so Zhenya sidles over to Olli to make small talk about their respective summers.

The others file into the room in pairs over the next ten minutes: Kris and Flower, Phil and Amanda, Hillary and Julie. Then Brendan flounces through the door, followed immediately by… Alex. 

Alex, who is Sid’s new boyfriend.

Brendan bounds over immediately to give Zhenya a bro-hug.

“Hey, G!” he says, grinning up at him. “Long time no see, eh?”

Zhenya grins back because he can’t help it. Brendan is a force of nature (and not always in a good way). He commands a lot of attention, and not just because he talks so fast that Zhenya has to give the conversation extra focus.

One good thing about Brendan is that he’s very short, making it easy for Zhenya to glare over his head at Alex. Alex is glaring back, and Zhenya feels like his challenge has been accepted.

“Not so long,” he says to Brendan. “Year only. I’m back now for good.”

“Awesome,” Brendan says, clapping him on the shoulders. “We could always use more Russians around this place!”

Behind him, Alex lets out a long put-upon sigh that Zhenya takes to mean he doesn’t relish the competition. Well, that’s too fucking bad, because Zhenya’s here to stay.

“Brendan, come on,” Alex says. “You’re so slow.”

Brendan grins over his shoulder at Alex.

“Gotta go,” he tells Zhenya. “There’s an asshole over there that needs my attention.”

He turns and jogs over to where Alex is waiting.

Zhenya hears Alex say, “You’re the asshole.”

Zhenya immediately turns to see if Sid’s paying them any attention, if Sid even looked up when his boyfriend came into the room. Sid isn’t looking in Alex’s direction, which would be comforting, except he isn’t paying attention to Zhenya either. Instead he’s frowning at his phone.

“Jamie’s going to be late,” he tells Mario. “We can get started without him.”

“Right,” Mario says. Then in a louder voice, he says, “Grab a seat guys. We’re starting.”

Zhenya, through luck or magic, manages to snag the seat on Sid’s left. He throws a smug look over at Alex, but Alex isn’t paying attention, too busy glaring at how close Brendan has pulled their chairs.

“You’re so clingy,” he whispers.

Brendan laughs and says, “Suck it up, buttercup.”

“First order of business,” Mario says, and everyone goes quiet. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed our friendly Russian bear over here is with us again. It’s good to have you back, Geno.”

Because he’s watching him so closely, Zhenya can see Alex frown in confusion and mouth ‘Geno?’ And okay, that’s fair – Zhenya hadn’t liked the name at first either, but Americans are weird and their pet names are weirder. But still, it’s Zhenya’s name now and he’s not going to let it be insulted. And anyway – how dare Alex look down on Zhenya’s nickname when he calls himself _Alex_ instead of one of the dozen proper Russian diminutives? 

What an asshole. 

Sid elbows Zhenya, and Zhenya jerks, realizes he hasn’t responded to Mario’s welcome.

“Good to be back,” he says, and manages a smile. 

Mario lets him get away with it, and after that Zhenya resolves to not look at Alex anymore because clearly he’s being a distraction on purpose, trying to get Zhenya in trouble with the boss.

Mario says, “Some curriculum changes-” then cuts himself off as the door opens. “Oh, Jamie, glad you made it. Come on in.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Jamie says. “Tyler locked us out of the house.”

The guy that follows him in is wearing a backward baseball cap and a smirk that instantly gets on Zhenya’s nerves. Zhenya’s a guy, okay, and he’s used to bros being bros, but there’s something about this guy’s face and his swagger that makes Zhenya instantly think he’s going to be annoying. And not, like, Brendan-levels of annoying where he’s irritating but sweet. No, this is the type of man who tears people’s lives apart and doesn’t even notice, Zhenya would put money on that.

Mario gives them a minute to find seats. He says, “Don’t worry about it. We just started. Everyone, this is Tyler. He’s going to be team-teaching with Jamie this year.”

Ah, team-teaching. Zhenya did team-teaching with Seryozha his first year here because Mario had wanted him on board but wasn’t sure his English was up to the task. It had been the right call, looking back, though after a year Zhenya had been more than ready to take the class over while Seryozha transitioned into an administrative role. Zhenya doesn’t know what Tyler’s done to make Mario think he can’t handle a class on his own, but probably it has something to do with Tyler being the type of guy who locks himself out of his house.

As everyone turns to look at him, Tyler gives a quick one-finger wave. What a douchebag. The kids are going to love him. 

“Anyway,” Mario says, drawing their attention back to him. “Curriculum changes. Sid and I spent a lot of time making updates over the summer. The biggest one you’ll notice is that we’re giving foreign language its own slot in the daily roster. It’s going to mean some changes to our schedule – shortening class times from an hour to 45 minutes, for example – but this is the right move for the school. Multiculturalism becomes more and more important every year, and we need to make it a priority to teach our children that they don’t live in a bubble.”

“Preach,” Hillary says, and everyone laughs.

“Right,” Mario says. “Obviously I don’t need to convince you all how important this is. I’ve already spoken with Alex and Marc-Andre, and they’ve agreed to make the move to full-time language instruction.”

Zhenya glares down at the table and tries to pretend that doesn’t sting. Teaching language classes was something _he_ brought to the table. He built it from the fucking ground up and kept it going strong for three years, and now just because Alex is going to do it full time, it’s somehow his fucking program.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He wouldn’t want to do language instruction full time anyway. He’s happy where he is, teaching his small group of students math and reading and everything else that’s important. Russian is important, yes, but Zhenya can do so much more where he is. It’s Alex who will be limited by this. 

Plus, Zhenya has more important things to get back. Alex can keep the stupid job, as long as he lets Zhenya have Sid in the end.

Mario starts talking then about new programs they’re going to be testing, and about the troubleshooting options for the math game program no one seems to like. Zhenya does his best to listen and make notes, but he keeps becoming aware of Sid sitting right next to him at the most inconvenient of times. Yes, okay, that’s kind of creepy, but Sid’s so goddamn beautiful and Zhenya is weak.

Well, hopefully Seryozha is taking good notes. And if not, Sid knows everything that happens in this school; surely Zhenya can convince him to go over the important things again later.

At last Mario ends the meeting, though not before reminding them about the barbeque later at his house. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Seryozha says as they’re walking back to the car. “It’s good news about the language classes. French won’t do them any good, but I’m glad the children will be learning the important languages like Russian.”

Zhenya makes an agreeable noise.

“Of course, you were too busy staring lovingly at Sid to pay attention to any of that. I’d ask when you got so obvious, but you’ve always been like this – I just forgot while you were away.”

“I’m not obvious,” Zhenya grumbles, though he knows he is. He’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, and it’s just Seryozha’s bad luck to have to put up with Zhenya’s moods.

“Sure you’re not,” Seryozha agrees easily. He ignores Zhenya’s glare. “Come on, Ksenia wants us to buy a few things for the okroshka.”

/////

They get to the barbecue fashionably late, mostly due to Zhenya’s procrastination while getting ready. Ksenia says something snippy about how they were never late going anywhere while Zhenya was away, but she doesn’t seem genuinely angry about it. Sid used to get mad like that back when they were together, and they’d frequently end up taking two cars places because Sid refused to wait around anymore. Zhenya had gotten better about it after a few years, but he’d regressed while in Russia where things had moved so slow and seemed so pointless.

Almost everyone’s already in the backyard – Mario manning the grill, Tanger stirring a bowl of something at the picnic table, most everyone else gathered in groups of twos and threes with beers in hand while the older kids kick a ball around at the far side of the yard. Zhenya puts their soup on the table, laughs at Tanger’s coleslaw effort, and then makes a beeline over to Julie and Caroline because there’s a baby he’s being dying to meet.

“Hello, little one,” he says, crouching down to look at Liv. She’s wobbling dangerously, holding onto Caroline’s fingers but eyeing up the fruit cup Julie has in her hands a few feet away.

“Hey G,” Julie says, smiling at him. “Should have known you’d come looking for baby cuddles. Thought you’d stop over to see Whit first, though.”

She nods her head in the direction of where Sid is standing with Flower. Whit is in his arms and they both look so fucking good. Zhenya has to look away before he does something stupid.

He turns back to Julie and makes a face, not sure how much he wants – or even can – explain about the situation there.

“Complicated,” he says at last.

“Yeah,” Julie says, looking sympathetic. “Not surprised. But don’t worry – he’ll come around if you give him time.”

Zhenya hopes she’s right. In the meantime, though…

“I can hold?” he asks Caroline, making grabby hands at the baby. 

Caroline grins and scoops Liv up. “Sure,” she says. “But don’t be offended if she starts to fuss; she’s been going through a stranger danger phase.”

“I’m not stranger,” Zhenya tells Liv, taking her gently from her mother’s arms. “I’m very good friend.”

Liv looks up at him with a scrunched face like maybe she’s considering crying. Zhenya bounces her a little and says softly, “You’re okay, little girl,” a few times in Russian.  
Eventually she stops making the face, and lets Zhenya cuddle her properly.

“Very cute,” he tells Julie and Caroline. “I keep, take home with me.”

The ladies share a look and then grin at him. 

“She wakes up at three in the morning four times a week,” Julie says. “Fine by us if you want to take her home.”

Zhenya looks down at Liv’s little face and wonders how anyone so cute could cause that kind of trouble. Zhenya just doesn’t believe it.

“I’m remember you tell me that,” he warns. “Have car seat ready at end of night, I take.”

They both laugh a little and then the conversation transitions into how expensive car seats are and which kind is the best to buy for the money. Catherine wanders over and joins the discussion, and of course her little one is old enough now to have swapped seats several times so she’s got the edge on opinions there.

Zhenya listens with half an ear, still bouncing the baby, but he finds his eyes drifting over to Sid every so often. The setting sun is shining in his hair and God, what wouldn’t Zhenya give to be over there instead holding Whit. But a crowded party isn’t the place to have out their issues so Zhenya stays away.

/////

Later after they’ve eaten, Zhenya finds himself drinking beer with Kris and Jamie. Zhenya’s been covertly watching Alex all night, trying to see what his interaction with Sid is like, but they haven’t been more than casually friendly. Which just proves how terrible a boyfriend Alex is. Zhenya would never leave Sid alone to handle the baby all night, not if he had a choice.

“Who are you glaring at?” Tanger asks, trying to follow Zhenya’s gaze.

“No one,” Zhenya says quickly. Then casually he nods at Alex and asks, “Where he come from?”

"Who, Alex?" Tanger asks, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Jamie's brother recommended him. Hey, Jamie, Geno wants to hear the story!"

Zhenya glares at him because everyone in a six foot radius heard that, including Alex, who comes over with Brendan to join the conversation.

Jamie laughs quietly. "It's not that exciting," he assures Zhenya. "Jordie just said, 'Hey, I work with this Russian kid who's too pure for public school. Do you have any room at your hippie school for him?'"

There are a few chuckles, though this is obviously a story everyone's heard before. Zhenya turns his glare on Jamie, who clearly needs to get his family under control. What was his brother even thinking with this guy?

Alex huffs crosses his arms over his chest. It highlights his muscle and Zhenya has to look away or risk hitting something.

"First of all, fuck you," Alex says to Jamie, who doesn't look offended. "Second, I'm not a hippie and I'm not fucking Russian."

Zhenya’s head snaps up at that. 

What? He’s not Russian? Well what the fuck is he? Alex catches Zhenya’s look and adds quickly, “Uh, not that, you know, that's a bad thing or whatever. But I'm American."

Zhenya says nothing because he doesn't trust his voice. He contents himself with glaring. An American teaching Russian when Zhenya's an actual Russian. It's a disgrace. This whole thing is disgraceful.

There’s an awkward pause in conversation, then Alex says quietly, “I’m going to get another drink.”

He leaves and takes Brendan with him. Tanger and Jamie both stare at Zhenya with raised eyebrows.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Jamie says, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m gonna go pull Tyler out of the beer cooler. See you guys later.”

That just leaves Tanger, who is much less easily mollified.

“You’d better not let Sid see you making friends like that,” he warns.

Zhenya crosses his arms. “Sid not care,” he says huffily.

“Yeah,” Tanger says, rolling his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

He walks away too and Zhenya stares after him. Does that mean Sid _does_ care? Of course he cares on some level, but how much is Kris talking about? And what’s the deal with Alex? He’s not acting like any kind of boyfriend Zhenya’s ever seen. Why would Sid put up with that?

Then again, Sid put up with Zhenya’s shit for years and years. Maybe this is like that. It seems good for Zhenya’s chances of breaking them up, at least.

Zhenya drains his beer and goes for another. It’s going to be that kind of night.


End file.
